


Standing Still

by elissanerdwriter



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4923997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/pseuds/elissanerdwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette is visited by a ghost from her past while at her mother's grave, but it isn't who she'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Still

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot for an anonymous tumblr ask to the prompt "standing still" with characters of my choice. If anyone ever wants to request something, go ahead and shoot me an ask at elissa-nerd-writer-24601.tumblr.com!

Cosette rubbed her arms. It was cold today, a slight fog wrapping over the streets, but she hadn’t thought to wear anything warmer than a thin-sleeved blouse. She had left early that morning, leaving a note for her husband, and hadn’t had time before she heard him stirring to pull on the proper clothes. The sun was struggling to penetrate the clouds, and her golden hair seemed dull in her peripheral vision without that light.

For there were no lights over the church graveyard.

The stones had always fascinated her. As a child, she had spent hours among them, tracing the engravings with her fingers. Many of them were half-covered by moss now, but she could still feel the names on her fingertips, and they were more familiar than those of all the still-living people she could remember from her childhood. They had been kinder, friendlier, than many of the children and adults she had known. They could protect her. The people of her youth had seen no reason to. Except her father, of course.

But one of the names on these stones had become much more important to her in recent years, one she had glossed over many times without realizing its significance. Upon her father’s final confessions, she had realized the name she had merely thought pretty, if vaguely stuffy, had been a real person, breathing once, and had tried to protect her, loved her even. No longer just a simple stone, without even any dates, it was a puzzle.

She stared down at the stone, arms still wrapped around herself, the wind gently whipping through her hair, and whispered the name again to herself. “Fantine.”

A hand touched her arm, making her jump. She laughed at herself slightly, for imagining ghosts, if even for a second, and turned to look- and felt her breath catch.

A woman stood beside her, pale and young but pretty, and something about her seemed dimly familiar, as if she’d known her before. Cosette stared at her, searching her face, wondering if it was true, what her suspicions told her. Marius had said he saw his friends, sometimes, who he knew were dead, walking through marketplaces or talking in cafes. Was this her own mother, come to visit her?

The woman looked at her concernedly, placing her hand more firmly on Cosette’s arm. “Are you alright?”

In that moment, Cosette knew it was not her mother returned from the grave. Although she knew she had been very young upon losing her mother, she knew, intuitively, that the was not her voice. She relaxed, still feeling a strange sense of loss, and looked back down at the grave.

“Your mother?” The other woman gestured towards the ground with her free hand. Cosette nodded.

“Yes. I did not know her. She died when I was young.”

“I know.” Cosette felt a swooping sensation in her stomach and looked up, confused, but the other woman was staring away, down the row. “You may not remember me, but I knew you, once. When we were both younger.”

Cosette shook her head. “I’m sorry-”

“My name is Azelma.” She still didn’t turn back to Cosette. “I was there when your mother left you with my family. I was there for all the years they treated you like that.”

It felt like Cosette’s arm was burning under her touch, and she resisted the urge to shake her hand off. “What do you mean?”

Azelma didn’t seem to hear her. “After you left, our lives seemed to fall apart, slowly. We lost the inn. We lived in one room. It was always cold, and there were always people- awful people. Your father was there, once. Your husband tried to save him, but he saved himself, eventually. They hurt so many people. And then we got some money, and it looked like maybe it would get better. But my sister died, in the rebellion. Her grave is somewhere I can’t find. My mother died while imprisoned- she is buried behind the jail. My father took me to America.” She shuddered. “He was no better there, I’m afraid. So I ran. And- Well, now I’m here.”

Cosette looked down at the grave. “I’m sorry- I don’t remember you. But I don’t remember much- how old were you?”

Azelma lifted her shoulders, delicately. She was wearing a thick wool shawl. “I don’t know. They didn’t keep very good records. I don’t even know how many children my mother really had. Ponine said there was at least one other, but he died as well.”

Cosette pursed her lips, glancing quickly at her face before returning her gaze to the soft ground. “I’m sorry. It sounds awful.”

“Yes, well, it got better for you, didn’t it?” There was no accusation in Azelma’s voice. “You have a family now?”

Cosette shrugged. “Just Marius and I. My father- died. Several years ago. He’s buried over there.” She pointed to the far corner of the clearing, where a somber marble stone rose above the others, just visible through the mist.

Azelma nodded. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Especially when you truly loved them.”

Cosette looked back down at the grave of her mother. “And even if you didn’t.”

The other woman nodded, and it was quiet for a while. Cosette realized her hand no longer felt uncomfortable on her arm. Strange, how fast her life could change. “Azelma?”

“Mm?”

“Would you like to stay with me? We have an extra room, since Marius’ grandfather died.”

Azelma smiled, and for the first time Cosette saw how young she really was. “Yes, I would like that quite a lot.”

They stood in companionable silence as the sun rose higher, finally shedding its soft light on the two women just more than girls, wise beyond their years, beginning to realize how much they had in common even though one head was dark as a raven and the other shone brilliantly in the morning brightness.


End file.
